Page 107 of The Last Dragon
“Sam!” The name rips from my throat. I don’t need a Medic. I need Sam. Only Sam.
I can’t do anything. I can’t lift him. If I do, I’ll break him. I can’t hold him, I can barely even look at him. All I can do is watch how blood pools in his mouth, trickling down his chin as he struggles to breathe.
Don’t die.
Please.
For the love of all Five Divines.
Do. Not. Die.
He weakly lifts a hand, his fingers clawing at my sleeves as his glassy eyes dilate. His eyes—Divines, his eyes. Dulled. I don’t even recognize him anymore. He glances down at his lower body, then squeezes his eyes shut. His brow furrows. I don’t want to look. I know what I’ll see if I do. But I glance anyway.
Legs. Twisted. Ruined. I didn’t even know bones could look like that.
“Zel,” he rasps, voice gurgling, chest heaving.
“You’ll be fine,” I lie. But I lie to myself. I tell myself he’ll make it. Sam will be here. He will help Raumen. He will chip away his scaly armor, take him out of the sunken breastplate, weighing him down. He will get here in time. I tell myself this isn’t fatal. That the blood pooling in his mouth doesn’t mean his lungs are filling.
I lie.
I lie.
I lie.
Because if I don’t, I’ll lose him before he’s even gone.
Sam drops to his knee beside me, his satchel of medical supplies hitting the ground with a dull thud, his breath sharp from having to sprint across the battlefield. My eyes remain on Raumen—whose chest barely rises beneath the weight of his armor. Sam presses his hand on his chest, gauging the truth I fear to name.
He has to live.
Nida approaches and kneels across from us. Her fingers tremble as she brushes a bloody strand of brown hair from Raumen’s brow. Silent tears trace through the dirt on her cheeks. Her lips are parted and quivering—holding back a scream neither of us can afford to release. Sam slowly removes his hand from Raumen, turning toward his lower body.
“Cut his armor,” I command, voice low as I nod toward Sam. My gaze doesn’t leave Raumen’s face. “Now.”
Silence answers.
I snap my head toward Sam. His eyes are locked on the twisted ruin of Raumen’s legs. Or at least where theyshouldbe. His eyes—too hollow for a man who saves lives for a living.
“I said cut his fucking armor!” My voice cracks, panic breaking free. My heart claws at my ribcage, a useless rhythm keeping me from staying calm. He can’t be dying. I won’t let him. Sam’s eyesdrop, and my heart falls with it. His silence tells me everything I need to know. But I don’t want to believe it. I refuse to believe it. But my body knows before my mind will accept it.
“No,” I whisper, turning back to Raumen. “No,no—” I gasp for air that feels too suffocating to take in. “Why—”.
“It’s…fine,” Raumen rasps, voice wet, bubbling with blood. “It had to be this way. I—” He breaks off, choking. “My father—the shop—” His mouth works for words he no longer has the strength to form. His eyes are still glassy, searching the sky. Sarga’s shadow glides by. Nida looks away, squeezing her eyes shut. I cannot bear this. I cannot look away. I don’t want to miss the last breath he’s going to take.
“Don’t say things like that,” I choke. My vision blurs. I don’t know if it’s the ash or dirt, or if it’s the tears finally breaking through, making me human. Even at moments like this, I’m supposed to shut my feelings off. Be a soldier and grieve when we are allowed to. And I try. Itry.I try.
I try to shut it off.But I can’t.
Raumen’s fingers twitch against my sleeve. His eyes flick to mine. He looks tired.
“Keep them—safe,” he whispers. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Our unit…keep…safe.” He trails off and then—stillness. His grip slackens, tension draining from his face.
I don’t move. My fingers stay curled around his, like holding him tighter could somehow anchor his soul in place. I take a breath, and I shut it all off. For what I hope is the last time.
I rise, turning toward the beast that took away my friend. Anger boils. The faces of the fallen flash through my mind—Hayden, Caspian, Aris, Kayus, Raumen—with every step I take. I kick a crushed helmet off the ground as I try to collect myself. The bolt hadn’t pierced the beast deep enough to kill it quickly—instead, it will be a slow, painful death as the tranquilizer seepsthrough its massive body. I stop just a few steps away, a gasp catching in my throat.
It’s watching me.
